


ash from your fire

by EirikaofRenais



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archbishop My Unit | Byleth, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EirikaofRenais/pseuds/EirikaofRenais
Summary: Sylvain had arrived late to the Godess Tower. Dimitri was already there with Byleth, as everyone should have expected. So he leaves, and spends a whole year alone in Gautier, ignoring Byleth's letters and focusing on keeping his feelings in check. Until Byleth is done with him and pays him a visit.Or: The S-Support between Sylvain and Byleth never happened and now they have to do something about it.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 16
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic I write in a long time, but Fire Emblem Three Houses has really inspired me, and I just love Sylvain's character so much. 
> 
> I hope this came out good. And Happy Valentine's Day to all!

_To the Margrave Sylvain Jose Gautier,  
I hope that this letter, along with the previous others I have sent, finds you well._

__

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_Your lack of correspondence has caused the Church of Seiros to find reasonable doubt in House Gautier’s devotion to the faith. Should you continue to withold a response, know that the monthly stipends you receive from the Western Church may cease._

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_As an officer of the Church, it is my duty to personally investigate your case before such actions are taken. House Gautier is still rebuilding, that much we are aware of. Funds from the Church are required to continue doing so. We will be arriving on the seventh day of this Lone Moon. I hope you will be there to receive us._

__

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_Her Grace, the Archbischop of the Church of Seiros,  
Byleth Eisner._

__

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_Please, Sylvain. Dimitri and I_

Sylvain crumpled the letter in his fist and slammed his other hand onto his desk. 

_Dimitri._

He could hear the servants pacing anxiously behind the door of his study, awaiting his instruction. 

_Dimitri._

Some snow fell from one of the pine branches in the frozen garden behind the window, where Sylvain played with Felix in his childhood. Felix was in Fraldarius, Ingrid back in Galatea, his friends having now gone their separate ways. 

_Dimitri and I…_

He sighed, slowly opening his fist to smooth the edges of the letter, trying in vain to leave it as he had received it, pristinely folded and with a faint mint smell that had endured all the way from the monastery to the most remote reaches of Faerghus.  
She had written the letter as the Archbishop, and had decided to add a note at the end, as Byleth. 

And Byleth always talked about Dimitri, which was when Sylvain always stopped reading. 

He put the letter back in the envelope stamped with the coat of arms of the Church of Seiros and placed it in the drawer on the left of his desk, adding it to the pile of same open envelopes, with the same smell of mint and the same half-crumpled paper inside. It was time to put away his feelings and begin the preparations to welcome the Church into House Gautier. 

**

A week later, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the gates of Gautier Manor, and although Sylvain followed protocol and descended the front steps to personally receive the most important figure of the Church, he knew that he would not find her there. Still, he smiled through his disappointment and bowed to Seteth, who raised an eyebrow and looked at him as he did during his school years, when Sylvain would run into him in the corridors whilst chasing after girls whose faces and names he wouldn’t remember. 

They exchanged a few words and headed inside, Seteth in front of him, looking as if time hadn't changed him in the slightest. Sylvain strayed behind, having long buried the boy from the corridors of Garreg Mach.

She arrived at twilight, long after the meal in her honor was over. He was waiting in the library, between shelves full of books that he had never read and did not intend to, with a portrait of his parents at his back, watching his every move: the slight tremor of one of his hands when he heard the squeak of wood against the ground, the sound his throat made when he swallowed, hearing her footsteps stop behind him. His father had cruel eyes and a dazzling smile. His mother had not spent a day of her life without suffering, and she had worn her pain like jewelry. He’s wondering if he looks like either of them when he turns around and finds himself face to face with Byleth, after a year of only living through memories that he should have been trying to forget, because there was none that wasnt tinted by the colors of war, and yet he kept relieving if it meant having something of her to cling to.

"You are late, Archbishop. I'm afraid most of my servants have retired for the night, and that I can't offer you the welcome you deserve." She looked him up and down and tilted her head, her long green hair slipping over her right shoulder. It's longer, Sylvain thinks, letting out a forced chuckle. "Seteth already took care of all the formalities. I wouldn't like to think that you arrived late on purpose."

"I suggest you don't think too much about it then, Margrave," the frost on the library's window having seeped into her words. If he was the Margrave, she would be the Archbishop. "I asked, and they told me you were in the library. I didn't mean to cause any inconvenience."

"The head of the Church never causes any inconvenience." He wanted to shed the cape his father had also worn years ago, because it suddenly sat too heavily on his shoulders after a long day of pleasantries and formalities. He wanted to take the painting off the wall and throw it into the fire in the corner, to watch it burn and burn and not have to look at Byleth. She had never been one to look away. "But you must be tired, after such a long ride on a horseback," he said instead.

"I'm used to riding."

"So you haven’t lost your habit to go on long rides, I see?"

"No, things havent changed in that regard."

He stayed quiet, and the only sounds in the room were the crackle of flames dancing in the fireplace and the wind howling outside, where night had already fallen and darkness had swallowed the land. She sighed and turned for the door when he did nothing but stare at her with a fake half smile on his face. She paused then, with one hand on the door handle, and glanced at him over her shoulder. He bowed his head. There was a year of silence and unanswered letters between them, in the small space of the library.

"Good evening, Margrave Gautier," she said.

"Good evening, Archbishop. I'll see you tomorrow." she closed the door and left him lonelier than he had been in a long time.

**

_His footsteps, leading him to the Godess Tower. Dimitri's back, his cape flapping in the evening wind. He couldn't see her from where he was, but he knew she was there. He also knew the legend of the tower. He had used it, many years ago, in another life of afternoons made of walks and dates, not tarnished by the mud from his boots as he walked through the bloody battlefield. And his companions had laughed, or blushed, touched his arm and left him feeling that heat that only lasted until he was alone in his room, and then it was never enough._

__

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_He didn't know if Byleth was smiling, or if she would blush at something Dimitri would say to her, or if they would spend the last moments of the day celebrating the end of the war in each other's arms. He heard her say the king's name, and his childhood friend leaned towards her, as he had always done throughout the entire time they had known her, naturally drawn to his professor, and Sylvian knew it was his time to go.  
Anyone else would have retired for the rest of the night, to suffer in silence. Not Sylvain. He returned to the great hall, to the music and the laughter of his friends, and did what he did best. He pretended to smile, and left the joy of the other’s drown out the sound of his heart breaking._

__

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**

She joined him for breakfast the next morning. She arrived late, wrapped in a long wool coat, the mercenary clothes she used to always wear underneath. They ate in silence for a few minutes, until a servant brought another plate full of strawberries and they both reached for one. She buried herself further into the coat, and he smiled and pushed the plate towards her.

“Mornings at Gautier can be as cold as the nights, your Grace," he said.

"I can see that." She took one of the strawberries, seeming to think for a few seconds, and finally brought four to her plate.

"We don't usually light the fire this early, but I can make an exception for your Grace, if you wish," he offered. She looked at him, her lips pursed. His Grace. Sylvain pretended not to understand the reason why her eyes scanned him with barely contained anger."Will Seteth join us at some point?" he asked instead.

"Two knights arrived from the monastery first thing in the morning. An urgent matter demanded our presence, so he left to take care of it" 

"He wasn't even here a day. Life in Garreg Mach is still as hectic as ever, from what I see." Byleth nodded, her lips still tight, as she absentmindedly played with the strawberries on her plate "But you stayed."

"I did. I came because I have business to discuss with you, and don’t plan to leave until I've done that."

"Yes, of course. Church affairs," he said bitterly. 

"Have you even read any of the letters I've sent?" she seemed more surprised than angry him at the accusatory tone of her words. She straightened in her seat, put her fork on the table and looked back at him "I've never received any answers." 

"I apologize for not contacting the Church earlier. As you well know, House Gautier is going through a series of changes that do not leave me much time for anything other than ensuring the prosperity of my lands. We are still recovering from the war. There is too much to do."

"Lord Fraldarius also has a lot to do, and I correspond with the Fraldarius territory at least once every two moons." 

"I also have to deal with guarding the border with Sreng," he answered fast. "We have different situations" 

Oh yes, of course Felix wrote to her. Receiving a letter every two moons from Felix Fraldarius was a high honor, even if the missives were short and often did not even contain a greeting. Felix had always held her in high regard, everyone in the Blue Lions knew that. 

"We are all busy, one way or another. The Church worries when too much time goes by without hearing from the nobles of the Kingdom." she lowered her voice, and Sylvain almost had to lean over to hear her next words "I worry."

He tensed, not knowing what to do next. He looked at his plate, where there was no food left, and then at his glass, still full of the water he had not drunk. Byleth cleared his throat to get his attention again.

"Even King Dimitri ..." 

And then Sylvain jumped to his feet, spilling his cup all over the table. A servant appeared out of nowhere to clean up the mess, and he smiled at Byleth, who was looking at him blankly. 

"Should I give you a tour of the mansion, your Grace? It was badly damaged during the war, but the servants have done a good job of restoring it to its old glory" 

"Very well," she agreed after a small pause.

**

She followed him silently through the many corridors of the mansion, listening to the same explanations about the history of the house that he had hated many years ago, when he was forced to listen to them from his father. He kept talking without stopping when they passed the room he had made sure to close as soon as he became the Margrave, his steps not faltering, but he should have expected as much from Byleth. She had stopped in front of the door, one hand on the black wood, her eyebrows furrowed. He called her by her name then. Not your Grace, but Byleth. It sounded like a prayer in the cold air of the hall that was anything but holy. She didn't look at him. 

"There is magic here." she observed.

"Byleth…" he tried again, this time louder. 

"What's behind this door, that needs a magic spell?" She questioned, ignoring him.

"Why do you care?" Sharp, deadly, like a cut from the Lance of Ruin. She did not turn back, did not look at him hurting, and did not take her hand away from the door. "I seem to remember that you are here on Church business. You came to make sure my faith remained strong, not to ask me about closed doors in my house, _Byleth."_

__

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"So am I Byleth again now?" He didn't answer, and she took a step back, hands outstretched, as if she was about to undo the spell that sealed the door, but finally dropped both her arms to her sides with a sigh, shaking her head "I came because the Margrave doesn't answers the Archbishop's letters, and because Sylvain doesn't answers Byleth's either. And you're right, I shouldn't have asked what's behind the door. This is your house, and you can do whatever you like in it." Then she smiled, a nostalgic little smile, and Sylvain knew that he would no longer be able to resume the tour of the house, that he did not want to tell her about the history of his family. He knew then that was his undoing "It’s just that I am so pleasantly surprised, that your reason has improved enough to be able to cast this spell. I'm proud." 

He released the containment spell in that moment, and she watched him approach, curiosity and surprise in her eyes, until he was next to her, so close that his chest was almost touching one of her shoulders. 

"This was Miklan's room, Professor."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many things in Sylvain's life that end with _"until Byleth"_

_He had closed the room with magic as soon as his father had passed to him the title of Margrave. The house had been badly damaged, and an entire wing had been destroyed by a massive fire during the war, whether it had been at the hands of invaders from beyond the Sreng border, or by the Imperial army, was still unknown._

_And yet Sylvain had decided that closing the door with magic was the first thing to be done, to begin the hard and long path of banishing from the house all the painful memories that had taken root from his childhood to the end of the war. A servant had seen him cast the spell. He had froze, watching his lord cast the containment spell without any expression on his face, in the middle of the corridor that led to the main rooms. The door to the room had gleamed once and then looked like a normal door again._

_"Sir?" the servant had asked, and Sylvain, who had noticed him long before he had decided to speak, had looked at him curiously._

_It was a short boy with brown eyes and thick blond hair that fell like a curtain over his forehead. Young, perhaps no more than fourteen. He had vaguely reminded him of Ignatz, who had fallen in Gronder under one of Ashe's arrows, and the memory had made him jerk away from the door and take two hurried steps toward him. The boy had let out a stragled cry and moved away as fast as his legs had allowed him._

_Sylvain had not had to warn the servants not to approach the room. No one had dared to do it after that._

_Until Byleth._

And there were many things in his life that ended with "until Byleth"

"You didn't have to do that," she tells him. 

The door is open in front of them. There is nothing inside but a bed without sheets and a splintered vanity mirror, Sylvain knows it even if there is no light to illuminate the room. 

"You're right. I didn't have to” he replies.

Byleth looks at him and then looks inside the room. He knows she won't come in unless he does it first, so he takes a steadying breath and enters. He turns to look at her then. She hasn't moved.

“I opened the door for you. The least you could do is come inside. It's not very polite to leave a guy waiting" he says, trying and failing to sound like he always did.

“You didn't have to” she says again, but still takes a few unsure steps and lets the door close behind her, and then darkness swallows them. “You could have said this was your brother's room. I would have understood" 

"What would you have understood? That I wanted to keep everything that reminds me of my brother away? That I want to desperately try to forget everything that reminds me to what my Crest has ruined?" he's aware that he's talking too fast, but Byleth doesn't seem interested in answering any of his questions, looking intently at him.

Sylvain ends with a sigh "What would you have understood, professor?" 

"You can't run away forever, Sylvain" she finally says, and he knows that the laugh he manages to pull from deep in his throat sounds viciously cruel, and he thinks it's appropriate that they're standing right in the center of the room in which his brother slept until he was disinherited by his father, because Miklan laughed the same way just before dying. 

"I'm not running away" he answers, and he knows it sounds pathetic and weak, because Byleth takes a step towards him and tries to touch him. 

He can vaguely see her features in the dark, now that his eyes have adjusted to it. The bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips, and her green eyes sparkling with pity. He scoffes and takes a step back. She leaves her arm suspended in the air. 

"You are running away" she keeps talking, and he realizes she's practically whispering to him. "You've been doing it since the war ended. You've been hiding in this house for a whole year. You say that you are rebuilding House Gautier, that you are busy guarding the border, but you forget that there is very little that doesn't reach the church's ears, and I know that the conflicts with the Sreng tribes are less and less every day. You make nothing but excuses, Sylvain, and you're missing the world that its outside, the world we always wanted to build. The world that Dimitri and I… "

"Yes, I know. The world that you and King Dimitri have been so busy building together. Always you and the prince. Right, professor?" she finally lowers her hand at his bitter tone, and he feels the space between them strangely empty. 

"Yes, always me and him" she replies "Just like it's always been me and..."

"Oh, but it's different, is it not? The rest of us, me... I was nothing more than another student. One of the many who returned for our promise five years after you disappeared" he smiles and looks at the ground, because it's becoming impossible to keep his eyes on hers "I'm sure, professor, that if it had not been for what happened with my brother, you would have hardly noticed me. Why look at the son of just some nobleman and a good for nothing, when you can have the prince's attention all to yourself?"

"Stop right there" he has to look at her then, because Byleth's voice hits him like a whip and makes him straighten up

It doesnt helps, and he still feels small in front of her. 

Her fists are clenched and for a moment it seems that she is going to hit him, or that some magical lightnings are going to escape from between her fingers, throwing him against the wall and taking all the air out of him, as he has seen her make to countless enemies on the battlefield. 

She decides to hit him with her words instead.

“You're not a child anymore, Sylvain. And I am not the inexperienced professor who's only been a mercenary all her life and doesn't know how to act when one of her students tells her that he wants to kill her. You're talking to the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, and I am not going to allow you to speak about me or Dimitri in that way " 

He swallows past the lump in his throat and lifts his head. She glares at him for a couple more seconds, and then suddenly her eyes are filling with tears, and her clenched fists relax, and she pulls away from him with a sad sigh. 

“I waited a whole year for you. It's sad to see now that my wait was in vain" 

She goes away without looking back, leaving him alone in the dark. Sylvain follows a few moments later, smiles at the servants he passes in the hall, and locks himself in his study. 

There's a stack of documents on his desk waiting to be signed, and he is happy that the task takes him all day, and he does not have to think about Byleth, the war, his brother or the fact that his chest hurts as much as it did seven years ago, when he saw her fall into the void. 

He doesn't eats that night, and he comes to the conclusion that Byleth will leave at dawn, when he's returning to Miklan's room and falling on the empty bed. 

He doesn't needs to look to know that it's still there, so he just drops his left arm over the side of the bed, touching the floor. 

Sylvain closes his eyes. The Lance of Ruin is still there, under the bed, where he threw it when he couldn't and wouldn't find a better place to get ride of it. 

He falls asleep with his fingers brushing the edge.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She comes back five years later, looking the same, and Sylvain has spend enough time alone in Gautier, fighting and surviving and fighting again, to not know by now that the pain in his chest has always been longing._

_The first time it happens, he's in the middle of the town square, looking at her retreating form returning to the monastery. He had told her that he hated her, and it wasn't a lie, even tho he had to fake a smile and say he was joking at the sight of her tilted head and confused frown._

_He wasn't joking. He hated everything about her._

_And yet, watching her walk away, her form against the setting sun, made his chest hurt as much as if his own lance was cutting a hole through his heart._

_Felix finds him there, looking at into the distance, and scoffs and pushes him to get his attention. Sylvain blinks at him after a moment, and his friend shakes his head and takes a step back. "It's time to go back now. I've been looking everywhere for you" Sylvain doesn't says anything, and Felix sighs and rubs the back of his neck before starting to walk "Stop looking at me like that, you're creeping me out"_

_The hurt on his chest only gets worst when he sees her again near the pond._

** 

_The second time, he welcomes the pain she brings with her with open arms. He's been sitting alone in the dining hall, a mug near his closed fist on the table. She's looking at him with nothing but curiosity in her eyes as she approaches, and he doesn't says anything until she grabs a chair in front of him and sits down, the moonlight coming through the windows forming a halo around her head that has him distracted enough, that he misses the way she looks at the mug with an arched brown, and doesn't reacts until she's extending her arm to grab it._

_He laughs, a humorless laugh that sounds too loud in the silence of the hall._

_"It's just water, professor" he says, but she's still looks inside the mug before relaxing in the chair again "No alchohol can get past Seteth"_

_She doesn't looks too convinced, but her eyes seem to scan his face for a couple of seconds before whispering "What are you doing up so late?"_

_He chuckles at that, takes a sip of the water he doesn't know why he has in his hand, because he doesn't remember much about suddenly waking up and blindly going to the dining hall, and sighs. "I could ask you the same thing, professor"_

_"You could, but I'm a professor here, and therefore don't have a curfew"_

_"Well, when you look at it like that" he starts, and scratches his cheek before keep going. She seems to know what he's about to say "It's not so strange that I'm here this late, since I've never been one for curfews"_

_She looks around then, like she's looking for someone. "I don't see any girl here"_

_"She ran away when she heard you approach, of course" she frowns, and he has to chuckle, because she looks adorable surrounded by the moonlight and silently judging him, like some sort of disappointed ghostly being "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I've been here alone all this time"_

_She looks around one more time before conceding and taping the table with two fingers, a nervous gesture that doesn't seems to mean anything except that she doesn't knows what to say, and so he welcomes the silence of her company._

_Her hair is always over her eyes, he notices, and he's sure that the urge of brushing her bangs away just so he can see her better it's something that many other students must feel, when she looks at them like that. She has green freckles swimming in the blue of her eyes, and her small nose scrunches when deep in thought, even tho she doesnt seem to realize. The moonlight makes her look ethereal, more out of reach than in front of the classroom, when she's just a mercenary made teacher that is clearly trying really hard to show them something that is natural for her, the art of fighting._

_He talks again because he wants to bind her here on earth with him. "You don't have to stay with me all night, professor. I know I should be in bed, and I promise I won't go looking for trouble. I will return to my room eventually" and then she stops drumming her fingers on the table to look at him in the eyes._

_"We couldn't have saved him" she answers him out of nowhere "There was nothing to be done"_

_He starts feeling something again at that moment. The cold of the night is the first thing that comes to him. He's only in his pants and a simple white shirt. "Are you talking about my brother?" he asks, even tho he knows that she is. She doesn't says anything "I dont regret killing him, professor. He got what he deserved"_

_Hunger comes next. He feels the stomach emptiness of having skipped a meal when he finishes his sentence and she tilts her head and looks through the window besides his head._

_"I know you don't regret it. That doesn't mean that you couldn't have thinked about a way of helping him"_

_"I didn't" he answers, and he has to take a sip of water. He remember then. He has a mug of water with him because he couldn't feel his tongue. He still can't. "I didn't want to save him"_

_"But he was your brother" he laughs again, with a bitterness that makes her perk up and fold her hands over her lap._

_"Families are a lot different when you're a noble than when you're a commoner, professor"_

_"I wouldn't know, I don't have any family but my father" he looks at her, searching for any ounce of sadness, but her face betrays nothing and her voice doesn't waver._

_"I know. I'm sorry" he counts his heartbeats then. One, two, three. And when he talks again, his heart is about to burst out of his chest "I wish I didn't had any family either. I wish Miklan wouldn't have been my brother"_

_"I understand" she says, and he stands abruptly, because he can't stay seated with his heart running a mile for hour anymore._

_"Really? I don't think you do, professor. You didn't knew you had a Crest until recently. You were able to live a normal life without the knowledge that anything you do or anything you make of yourself will be nothing in the face of the existence of something that you were not able to chose for yourself" he takes some air and then whispers, just like she did to him when he came to the dining hall "You don't understand anything"_

_"I understand that you wish you would have wanted to save him" she says after what it feels like a long time._

_He doesn't move after that, but remains standing in front of her, with one of his arms on the table, his fingers almost brushing her hand. The light breeze of the night has her pushing a few wild strands of her hair behind her ears, and he follows the motion with a strange fascination, before his words come out tumbling from his mouth without him being able to control them._

_"I killed my brother today. I pierced his heart with my lance and saw him become a beast in front of my eyes, but I didn't felt anything when I watched him fall dead on the floor. I didn't felt anything, because my Crest robed me of that too"_

_He takes a seat again, and neither of them talk again. She stays with him until the sun is stating to rise and Seteth appears, in the middle of his early morning check of the monastery grounds. She makes a convincing excuse that only garnes him a stern glance from the advisor of the Archbishop before he has to return to his room to get dressed for the day._

_His chest keeps hurting all the way to his dorm, until he closes the door and sinks to the floor on his knees, trying to stop thinking about reaching for her hand on the table._

** 

_By the time Edelgard's army attacks the monastery, the pain in his chest when he looks at her is already an old friend. He runs through the corridors, helping the Knights of Seiros to take people to safety and making sure no one stays behind. One of the many persons he leads towards the improvised escape route they device in the last moment is a girl he dated a couple of times. She's grabing his arm like her life depends on it, and Sylvain realizes that it probably does. When they pass near a window he has to stop to look at the mass of soldiers that approaches the monastery, a not so distance sea made of black and red waves that keeps getting closer and closer. The girl makes a strangled noise and tugs his arm, and suddenly is her leading him towards where the knights are handling the students that are not apt to fight._

_She turns in the last minute, right when he's about to return with his friends "I forgive you!" she screams, because the noise around them makes it almost impossible to hear something else that it's not panicked screams and military commands._

_"What?" he asks, confused, and she gives him a nervous smile and a too vigorous nod._

_"I forgive you for not wanting to keep dating me" she says, in a rush and still screaming, and the knight holding her arm to help her pass through the hole in the brick wall that leads to the secret passage they're using is looking at her as if she's gone insane "You avoided me for two months until I finally saw you in the dinner hall with another girl. But I forgive you. I just wanted to tell you because I dont know if any of us will die. And thank you"_

_And then she disappears, and the knights keep bringing more people, so Sylvain turns around and starts running in the opposite direction, where he last saw Byleth standing close to Dimitri and Felix, near the main entrance._

_She's still there when he arrives, out of breath and pushing people aside. The sea of soldiers is about to crash against the monastery walls, and Dimitri is saying something to Dedue that he can't hear, but that it has Felix shaking his head and screaming even louder at the prince. A pegasus knight flies too close to his head the moment he grabs her by the arm and yanks her aside, and she looks at his hand holding her and then at him, and her eyes are glowing green._

_"When this fight is over, I need to tell you something" he says, and it sounds like something a character from one of Ashe's favorite books would say, but he can't think about anything else when the rush of battle is singing that loud in his veins._

_She smiles reassuringly and nods, but he doesn't let's her go "We'll defend the monastery, and we'll make Edelgard's army retreat"_

_"No matter how the fight ends" he interrupts her, and she doesn't says anything that denies the fact that she probably also thinks that winning against Edelgard's is not the most possible outcome "I'll look for you, after everything is over"_

_"I'll always look for you too" she answers, and then Felix is pushing her and Dimitri orders to take position, as the first imperial wave crashes against them, and Sylvain can't think of anything but the word always coming out of her lips, as he cuts his enemies open with his lance._

_He falls off his horse when he sees her disappear. Dimitri screams her name behind him, but Sylvain can't do anything but take a couple of steps forward and crumble to the ground._

** 

_She comes back five years later, looking the same, and Sylvain has spend enough time alone in Gautier, fighting and surviving and fighting again, to not know by now that the pain in his chest has always been longing._

** 

Dimitri is waiting for her when she enters the room, near the chair where he used to sit during their war meetings, dressed like the king he is now, but looking more than ever like the student she once teached how to use magic for the first time. She approaches slowly, her eyes set in the document laying on the table, and is only when she's right by his side that he says her name. 

"Did you sign it?" she asks, and he shakes his head with a smile. 

"I was waiting for you. It felt like the right thing to do to wait for the one that made this possible" 

She looks at him for a moment. Eye bags gone, hair pristinely tied back, a heavy crown on his head and the weight of the years in his eyes. Then she looks at the paper again. "I'm not the only one that made this possible. We all fought for it. The ones that live, and the ones that were left behind" 

"For the living and for the death" Dimitri whispers behind her, and is enough for her to bend by the waist and sign as the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros. 

He only speaks again after Seteth comes and fetches the scroll with an easy smile on his face, and one last proud look to Byleth. 

"The news will reach Gautier in a couple of days" he says, and she musters enough courage to not look at him. Instead, she keeps her eyes on the stash of documents she knows that now that the important stuff is out of the way, she'll need to go through with him. 

The official announcement will be the following day, in front of the most important lords of the kingdom and the highest members of the Church. For now, it's only the former professor and her old student, signing the beginning of a better Fodlán. 

"The same it'll reach everywhere else in the kingdom, I presume" 

Dimitri doesn't adds anything more, and they busy themselves until late in the night, when all is finally done and ready. 

The next morning, the official announcement is made. The expected reactions are received with patience and understanding. A surprisingly quick letter arrives from Almyra. 

And the Margrave Gautier makes preparations to travel to Garreg Mach, because he wants to look for her one more time.

_A decree from the Royal House of Blaiddyd._

_Between His Majesty Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus._

_And Her Grace Byleth Eisner, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros._

_In a world steeped in tradition, it is up to us, the living, to see it change for the better._

_That is why it is by the order of Archbishop Byleth Eisner, in coalition with King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, that a new law regarding Crests has been established. Once instated, this law will no longer require Crest- bearing heirs to head their houses._

_It should be made clear that our goal is not to eliminate or invalidate the existence of Crests. Such things are required to wield the very weapons that have continuously cut us a path to victory._

_But we have since been freed from such trying times, and wish to nurture this newfound peace through acceptance. Those with and without Crest should rightfully acknowledge each other as equals. Adequate leadership is not about the blood one bears, but by their strength of character._

_During the war that brought Fodlán to it's knees, our most prominent leaders were not all Crest-bearers. Some were not leaders of prominent houses. Yet they fought with integrity, loyalty and courage, helping lead the kingdom and Church armies to victory._

_What is a leader, if not one who elevates those around them?_

_As we enter a new dawn, it is time for us to live freely, because Crests do not decide our fate._

_We do._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely aac7 for helping me with this and being so kind as to beta for me. You're the ABSOLUTE BEST and planning ideas with you is amazing.


End file.
